This Is the System

The fluorescent lights flickered in fits and starts, and the old heater wheezed out a lukewarm draft on a tide of mechanical noise.

A few of the night shift—sergeants and corporals—leaned their shoulders into the sofa along one wall of the waiting room, set their cups down in front of the coffee machine, and muttered to one another in low voices.

"The kid they dragged into that hotel VIP room? Turned out to be a high schooler."

Sergeant Kim Taejun said it, tipping his weight back in the seat.

Hiss—

The smoke he exhaled fouled the ceiling. Beside him, Corporal Oh Jaemin took up the thread.

"She had an ID, didn't she? A forgery's enough to kill it. Long as there's a record she walked in on her own two feet, there's no problem at all."

"I heard they carried her out. Unconscious. Foam at her mouth..."

Corporal Lee Sehun let the sentence trail and took a swallow of vending-machine coffee.

"And that's our problem?"

Kim Taejun answered, unruffled.

"That's the Seongjin Association's business. We just... don't leave a record, and take our hands off. That's all there is to it."

"A missing-person report came in on that kid, though."

When Lee Sehun frowned, Kim Taejun let out a light laugh.

"Missing? Right. Yeah. Her old man said she was autistic, didn't he? A kid like that—society was never going to look after her anyway."

"Oh, that reminds me. What was her name. Suyeon? She spilled everything to a reporter and ended up dead, too."

Oh Jaemin muttered it, fiddling with his phone.

"Yeah. They closed it out as a traffic accident. Didn't even take her to a hospital—straight to the crematorium. Thanks to that, the press never got their teeth in."

Kim Taejun snorted.

And then—

"Their cleanup really is a thing of beauty. We ought to learn from it. Nice and clean. Right?"

For all that the organization wore the mask of a corporation, they were talking, without a shred of hesitation, about taking organized crime for their model.

"I heard there was a National Assembly member on that club's VIP list?"

Lee Sehun asked.

"There was. A minister, too. And a chief prosecutor."

He said it with an empty face.

"Is the cleanup finished?"

"They're in a meeting upstairs, aren't they? Section chief, squad leaders, team leaders—every one of them went in. They're probably sharing the footage and the liaison report they got from the Seongjin side."

A thread of irritation ran through his voice. Sharing a room with the brass over something this trivial put him on edge.

"...Then we just keep our mouths shut and drink our coffee."

Lee Sehun set his cup down as he said it.

"That's the rule in this line of work. You can know plenty, but your mouth has to stay heavy if you want to live long. Especially at this substation."

Kim Taejun added it with his eyes narrowed to slits.

"Still... doesn't it sit wrong, sometimes, when they bring the little ones in?"

When Lee Sehun said it quietly, Kim Taejun flicked the ash from his cigarette and cut him off, flat.

"Carry feelings like that and you won't last here. You know that? This is a system. Nothing changes just because we do."

Even if it weren't them, plenty of others would take their place as parts. No—anyone would want to be a part. Watching the Seongjin Association's back meant that many crumbs fell your way.

A conversation so warped it was hard to believe it had come out of a substation, one of the pillars of public authority. To them, it was common sense.

VIP rooms. Sexual entertainment. Filming. Drugs. Mouths bought shut. Inside a system already assembled, a single girl was nothing more than a part for greasing the gears.

And then.

Ding!

The substation door opened.

And—

Click.

Someone's footsteps. Steps on the cold floor. Slow, and evenly spaced.

"..."

In that moment, everyone in the room had to feel it—a strange déjà vu, and a creeping sense of ill omen. How to put it. An alien smell. The smell of blood, slipping in among the cigarettes, the coffee, and the cup ramen with a cunning quiet.

No sooner had I stepped inside than I saw them—three men in uniform, tucked into a corner of the waiting room with their coffee and their cup ramen.

"..."

"..."

They looked at me. A brief silence. And at once, numbers rose into my vision.

Things that called themselves police. And yet the figures on them were values with death tangled through them, again and again.

"Hoo."

I drew a deep breath. Until a moment ago there had been a hesitation, born of the profession called police. In this instant it vanished completely.

"What's your business...?"

A complainant at dawn, and so the words came laced with irritation. I let them slide past.

Instead—

The Karma I had been hoarding until now. All of it—3,070—I poured into the three stats.

My heart kicked hard. My blood ran hot, and my muscles swelled as if they might split.

"Hey, what the—"

Before the bastards could move, my foot drove into the floor first.

BOOM!

The mere act of planting my pivot foot shattered the floor tiles. Then a single leap. With that, the space between the man and me was erased at a stroke.

"...?"

The first target was Karma 980. He couldn't react to my movement. He stared at the place I had vanished from a moment before, and only belatedly seemed to find me; his pupils dilated.

To be late. That meant death.

CRUSH!

My right hand seized his face and drove him straight into the wall.

SPLAT!

His head buried itself in the wall like a ripe watermelon bursting.

Trickle—

Gray brain matter slid slowly down the wall along with clots of blood. In an instant no longer than a blink, one villain disappeared from the face of the earth.

"G-gaaaaaah!"

A scream. At their colleague's brutal death, the remaining two lost their heads and scrambled for weapons.

"D-don't mo—"

While he leveled the taser at his hip, my body had already reached him.

"...Huh...?"

Hearing a voice tangled with bewilderment and disbelief, I drove into his chest.

THUD!

I struck his wrist aside. The taser rolled across the floor, and my other arm drove into his chest.

"Ghk!"

His body lifted into the air and slammed down onto an office desk.

CRASH!

The desk shattered, fragments flying in every direction. But there was no time even to groan.

"Gaaaaaah!"

I stomped the head of the man pressed flat to the floor. Under that pressure, that monstrous strength—

CRUNCH!

Vessels burst, and the skull flew apart.

Twitch, twitch!

Convulsions ran through the headless body. But soon it lost even that strength and went slack.

"You crazy bastard!"

The last one. His judgment was quick. In the span it took two lives to vanish, he had already drawn his pistol.

However strict the Republic of Korea might be about the use of firearms, the story changed when it wasn't a victim on the line, wasn't a citizen—when it was his own life.

BANG!

The first shot. A blank. A red flash, a sharp impact. But—

As expected.

A blank was a pyrotechnic round, made to throw a muzzle flash and a blast. But it wasn't hot. It couldn't be. I possessed a special ability—Fire Resistance—that let me withstand flame.

On top of that, the tougher hide granted by my risen Stamina kept something on the order of a blank from dealing me any real shock or pain.

"..."

I looked at him as if nothing had happened.

"Wh-what the...?!"

Never having imagined anyone could take a blank without flinching, he panicked and tried to pull the trigger again.

But—

A leap past the limits of human movement. With it I closed the distance and seized his jaw.

CRACK!

I twisted the jaw lightly, and the cervical spine tore like paper. His head turned at a grotesque angle.

Thud. Collapse!

A moment later the warmthless corpse folded and dropped to the floor.

Three. The time it took to kill three pistol-armed officers was five seconds at most.

A clamor—

But because of it, gunshots and screams had burst out. At that racket the substation's brass kicked the door open and came running.

"Wh-what the hell is this...?!"

Behind the balding middle-aged man, lieutenants and sergeants followed and ringed me in an instant. Pistols were gripped tight in their hands.

"You—you bastard. Don't move! Hands on your head!"

Several muzzles trained on my body. Guns. One of the most powerful weapons humanity had ever invented. And so their faces eased, as if they believed they now held perfect control.

But they did not let go of the reins of tension. Three officers were dead. They stared, focused, ready to pull the trigger the moment I made a suspicious move.

"You crazy son of a bitch. You dare lay a hand on the police? Your life's over now. You understand?"

The middle-aged man who looked to be the substation chief. He shouted as if to cow me, lifting his muzzle higher.

"Why the hell did you do this, huh? What was so unfair you had to raise all this hell."

"..."

I didn't answer him. Instead I slowly raised my eyes.

A memory I didn't want to recall. But a nightmare that always rose, vivid.

Honestly. This is why the parentless ones are no good. We go to the trouble of feeding you and clothing you, and you don't know the favor—you come crawling to the police station?

The one who had dealt most with the beast that went by the name of uncle. The one who had despised me as a parentless brat, a criminal in the making before long.

On the black nameplate over the right breast of his uniform, the name Park Hyeongjun was engraved, clear.

"...Ten years ago. You remember a ten-year-old kid? The child who came running here in tears every day, beaten by his uncle."

At my words, Park Hyeongjun's eyes trembled, faintly. It wasn't a stir of emotion. It was recollection.

And the next moment—

"Ah... that future-criminal brat? But why would that kid...?"

Then he stared straight through me. However clean and unwounded the body had become, the shape of the past remained. His pupils widened, as if he had found it. Suspicion turned, at once, to certainty.

"Yeah! You. It was you. That rotten-luck bastard. I knew it. I saw you right from the start. Criminal trash shows, I tell you!"

At the filthy curses and insults pouring from his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mouth, I felt relief instead. No—there had never been any need to confirm, through that mouth, that he was still the same unchanging garbage.

A negative Karma reaching all of two thousand. He was the worst villain I had seen.

Of course he was. A villain who swung his profession, his authority, the power he held, without restraint. Because of him, dozens—hundreds—must have ended their lives in pain. People like the one I used to be.

"Die, you criminal bastard..."

The instant he realized I was that parentless thing from the past, he pulled the trigger. But before he could—

I poured all the Karma I had just taken into Agility.

And—

BANG!

The bullet spat from the muzzle. But I was already gone from that spot.

I can see it.

My kinetic vision caught the bullet. And my movement reached Park Hyeongjun faster than the round.

"...!"

His face twisted with fear and bewilderment. Before he could get a word out—

CRACK!

I broke his wrist.

Clatter.

The pistol tumbled across the floor.

"Aaaagh!"

That scream was the signal.

Bang, bang-bang!

Gunfire erupted from every side. But an Agility that had reached 18 did not permit a bullet. I ducked beneath the rounds and drove into their blind spots.

"Wh-where did he...?!"

Bullets were fast. Fast enough to be a real threat even to me, now. But the eyes of the men handling them couldn't follow.

I kicked up into the jaw of one officer sunk in panic.

CRUNCH!

With the sound of bone crushing, he flew into the wall. Beside him I reached out, and one sergeant's torso was caught in my hand. I lifted his body lightly and slammed it into the wall.

CRACK!

"Kagh!"

His chest caved in, and he vomited blood.

"A m-monster?!"

A monster? It wasn't wrong. With strength and speed that had left the realm of humanity, I snapped and shattered their limbs.

And the more I killed them—the more I judged the wicked—the stronger I became.

They were villains wearing the skins of police. Every one of them a murderer who had killed anywhere from a handful of people to dozens. And so I absorbed that negative Karma whole and allotted it once more to my stats.

A short time. The one they called a monster evolved into a monster still more powerful. A kind of superhuman, beyond the domain of man. A monster that grew by judging evil.

"..."

And so, before much time had passed at all, the only living things left inside the substation were me, and—

"You—you bastard!"

Park Hyeongjun, remaining to the last. Clutching his twisted wrist, he did not beg to be spared.

"You know who's behind me? The Seongjin Association. Fuck—the Seongjin Association won't let you live!"

Park Hyeongjun shouted it, his face flushing red and livid by turns. His body trembled, and yet his mouth alone still threw its weight around. Like a man living inside the delusion that he still held something in his grip.

"...The Seongjin Association."

At that name, I smiled, faintly. The name of fear that so many had whispered. That organization had covered everything, hidden everything, and so the world had stayed silent.

"Thank you."

"Wh... what? What kind of bullshit..."

"For telling me which trash needs killing, and where they are."

Park Hyeongjun's pupils contracted in an instant. Before he could draw a breath, I extended my foot.

CRACK!

A knee, crushed.

"Ghk!"

At the same time my elbow drove in, and his jawbone gave a splitting crack.

"G-aaagh...!"

In the instant he tried to scream—

THUD!

This time the tip of my foot struck the back of his skull dead on. His body lifted as if thrown, slammed into the wall, and his brain shook; just before consciousness failed, I seized him by the hair again and hauled him up.

With those words, my hand closed around his throat. Then I tightened.

"Kkh—kgh...!"

My fingers crushed his windpipe, so he couldn't even scream.

A neck is not merely flesh. Inside it lie countless vessels and nerves, and the most important thing of all—the airway. I tightened there, slowly. Very slowly.

"...Khk! Hhk, gh...!"

His eyes bulged. His breath would stop. His chest would seize. The sensation of a blocked airway is different again from drowning. He had barely dragged in a mouthful of foul, turbid air, but even that would not be properly taken in.

"Huk... kkh... phuhk...!"

His whole body thrashed. His arms flailed. His legs scrabbled. But my fingers, hard as stone, strangled his throat.

Spurt!

His eyes flushed crimson, and the vessels burst. Thick blood ran from his nostrils and the corners of his mouth.

"Gwehk!"

His tongue shoved out. And a warm liquid began to flow from the crotch of his trousers.

"S... save... me... hhh... gh..."

Not a sound—only the shape of a mouth, barely formed. I didn't answer. I simply looked into his eyes, calm.

Those eyes. Only moments ago they had threatened me and spoken the name of the Seongjin Association. Now nothing remained in them but fear.

He would have understood by now. That nothing would save him. And so he broke all the more. The instinct to draw breath—and the despair of not being permitted even that instinct. Slowly, inside the pain of being unable to take in a single mouthful of air.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Trembling.

His body shook. His pulse went erratic. His jaw quivered. His eyes rolled upward.

At last—

THUD!

I released my hand. And I watched the corpse drop, powerless.

Eyes gone empty. The tongue hung out, drying.

The message floating before my eyes proved that he had been erased from this world.

"..."

I looked down at the floor, indifferent. His hand, soaked in blood, clutched something and trembled as if in a convulsion. It was... a smartphone.

My gaze shifted for a moment. The screen was on, and at its center a red icon glowed, clear: call in progress.

Slowly, I picked it up. And the voice sounding from the other end of the line.

A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠calm, low tone. But inside it there was a clear killing intent.

A short silence. Then—

Click!

The call ended on the tone.

And then—

Screeeeech!

A sharp friction. Tires scraping asphalt—the sound of someone stopping in a hurry.

Bam, bam!

The successive shock of car doors thrown open. And light.

Beyond the glass of the substation's front doors, two fierce beams of headlights raked the ground as if sweeping it clean. For an instant that light lit the interior white, and cast the blood spattered on the walls, the shattered desks, the chairs broken to pieces, and my own blood-soaked shadow like a black shape that had swallowed something.

Slowly, I looked at the headlight beams stretching beyond the glass.

Movement stirred inside that light. Presence. Gazes. Killing intent. Proof that another sinner had arrived—one who had to be judged.

"..."

I let the smartphone fall from my bloodstained hand and walked toward the entrance, slowly treading the blood that had run across the floor. With every such step—

A message appeared, telling me my stats had risen. After several uses of Karma like that, I opened the door.

Fwoosh!

Light poured over me like a spotlight. And toward that light... I took a single step, as if pushing open the gates of hell.